


Drabbles

by therecognitionscene



Category: Hannibal (TV), Sherlock (TV), Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Barebacking, Dirty Talk, Dubious Consent, Fem!Mormor, Genderswap, GoT references because I couldn't resist, Hannibal crossover, Implied Child Abuse, Jim is a kinky domineering little shit, Love, M/M, Masochism, Mentions of past child abuse, Oral Sex, Prostitution, Public Sex, Richie I'm sorry bby, Smut, Strap-Ons, Tattoos, Teen Jimcest, Teen Severich, Underage Sex, WELL HERE WE GO INTO SNK DRABBLES, Whipping, Young Jim, Young Richard, texts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-18
Updated: 2015-02-01
Packaged: 2017-11-25 22:37:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 12,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/643701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therecognitionscene/pseuds/therecognitionscene
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drabbles and short fics, mostly from prompts received on Tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. What A Filthy Mouth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on this prompt: "Mormor smut please? top!Seb who has a knack for dirty talk. Jim doesn't mind at all and acts more raunchy to rile the other up."

“Jesus fuck, Jim, such a little slut today, aren’ ya?”

Jim only moaned in response, loud and long and lewd. He was on his hands and knees on the floor of his office, naked except for his Alexander McQueen tie; after all, it was his favorite, and it did make such a good leash for Sebastian to choke him with.

“Didn’t take me more than five minutes to get you hard and panting, and even less to get you stripped and on the floor. Bet you were thinking about me all day, weren’t you?”

Seb gripped his flushed cock in his hand as and rubbed his leaking tip around the rim of Jim’s slicked up arsehole, giving a sharp tug on the designer tie wrapped around his other hand.

“Bet you were sitting at your desk, working on some plan or other, shifting in your seat as you pictured me taking you against the window. Anyone would be able to look up and see us; they’d know that Jim Moriarty was nothing more than a whore who loved having tight little arse fucked by a nice, big cock. Did you imagine me fresh from a kill? Covered in sweat and more animal than human? You’re such a dirty little fucker, Jim.”

The dark-haired Irishman arched his back provocatively and mewled. Not groaned, not whined, fucking _mewled_ , and damn all if the sound didn’t shoot hot lust straight up Seb’s spine.

“Please, Bastian, please just fuck me now. I need your cock in me, need you to use me and fill me up with your come.”

Seb gave Jim’s arse a sharp slap, drawing an over-exaggerated gasp from his lover.

“No more talking, slut. In fact…” He reached over to their pile of clothes and grabbed Jim’s pants , balling the neon green fabric up and leaning forward to press the cloth against Jim’s lips. “Open up; this should help to keep you quiet.”

Jim’s next moan was muffled by the underwear, and he craned his head back to look over his shoulder with half-lidded, dark eyes.

“No need for that, boy. Face front and I’ll fuck you properly.”

Jim obliged, turning back away from Sebastian and dropping his shoulders down to the floor, arms stretched out in front of him. The sway in his spine was beautiful and the way he wriggled his arse back against Sebastian’s cock was even more so. The sniper took hold of Jim’s slim hips with a firm hand as he lined the tip of his prick up and pushed into Jim with a smooth, slow thrust.

“Glad you worked yourself open for me. When did you do it, before you got my text and knew I was coming, or after? Bet it was before. Bet you were so desperate for something in your arse that you just had to finger yourself. How many did you get in there, baby? Three? Four? Nothing can compare to my cock though, can it? Nothing can split you apart quite like my thrusts.”

Jim whimpered around his impromptu gag and ground his hips in a rough circle around Sebastian’s cock, trying to entice the man into moving, into fucking.

“Well, since you were so eager for it, go on, then. Fuck yourself on my prick.”

Seb placed one hand lightly on Jim’s lower back and kept his grip loose on the criminal’s hip, smirking as the smaller man huffed in frustration. Jim wanted to be fucked; he didn’t want to have to fuck himself. But Sebastian wasn’t moving, and as the seconds dragged on, Jim grew more desperate. Finally, with a weak slam of his fist against the carpet, Jim began working himself on his sniper’s cock.

He rolled his hips down and forward, up and back, never letting Sebastian’s prick fully escape his hole. It felt good, damn good, better than he would ever admit, and judging from the moans coming from the blonde, Seb was enjoying it too.

“Wish you could see yourself, kit, impaled on my cock like this. So pretty,” Seb gasped, using all his self control to keep his own hips still as Jim fucked himself hard and fast. The sound of slapping skin filled the room, complemented by Jim’s muffled moans and whines and Seb’s muttered oaths.

It didn’t take much longer for the burly man to come. He pushed Jim’s hips forward and slid his prick out of the criminal’s tight heat, drawing a surprised and desperate cry from Jim, and gripped his cock as he painted Jim’s arse with thick white spurts of come.

“Holy _fuck_ ,” he panted as the last of his release dribbled out and fell to the floor. He collapsed to the side and laid on his back as his he waited for his heart rate to slow. “That was good, boss. That was real good.”

Jim spat his pants onto the floor and glared at the sniper, thin face red with sex and very, very angry. 

“You fucking prick, you made me fuck myself and now you’re just going to lay there while I’m still hard?”

Seb grinned up at his boss, giving him an insolent wink. “I figured you could get yourself off, my little comeslut. I was hoping for a show.”

Jim straddled his sniper, sitting on his chest and wrapping a thin hand around Seb’s throat. “That’s not how it’s going to work, Seb. Open your mouth and don’t fight me, baby,” he purred dangerously as he slipped the head of his cock into Sebastian’s parted lips.

And this was what Sebastian loved, the give and take of their relationship. His come dripped from Jim’s hole and smeared on his own chest as the criminal mouthfucked him, both of them sluts and both of them masters and both of them toys.

Seb grinned up at Jim, and for a moment, Jim returned the sick smile as he came down his lover’s throat.


	2. Lovely Ladies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Genderbent Mormor based on this prompt: "FEM!MORMOR WITH STRAPONS GO"

“Boss, _please_ , oh fuck, I need it.”

Sebastienne’s normally lower, gravelly voice hit a new octave as she writhed futilely on the bed. Her ankles were strapped in a spreader, ensuring that her dripping cunt was on full display for the dark-haired woman kneeling behind her.

“Oh, lovely, don’t rush this. Let’s take our time; where’s the fun in getting off quick and dirty when we have our new toy to break in? And what did I tell you to call me tonight, hmm?”

“’m not calling you that,” she muttered as she craned her neck to try and look behind her, trying to catch sight of the dark-haired and beautiful Jem Moriarty; in her position though, on her knees with her shoulders on the bed, Sebastienne could hardly see anything happening behind her. Her rough, work-calloused hands flexed on her lower back, wrists bound together with soft rope as Jem dragged a perfectly manicured nail up the back of her quivering thigh.

“You will before we’re done, baby, I have no doubts. But you want to see it again, don’t you?” Jem cooed as she watched her employee squirm, and Sebastienne almost rolled her eyes at the smirk she knew the other woman was wearing. “Alright then, a little glimpse before I start fucking you with it.”

The sniper couldn’t deny the flutter in her chest as Jem shifted slightly and she was able to glimpse the strap-on. Recently purchased, the toy was a formidable thing: a dull, rusted red, ribbed, and wickedly curved in several places. Dragon’s Tongue, it was called, and that had just tickled Jem’s fancy right away. Sebastienne insisted that they had been watching too much Game of Thrones, and that they didn’t need a fucking dragon tongue dildo, but there was no changing Jem’s mind.

“Scary, isn’t it? Don’t worry, Tigress. I’ll be gentle. At first.” Jem gave her underling a wink before reaching forward to grip the long blond hair and twist Sebastienne’s head back to the front. “Now, make sure you moan nice and loud for me; you know I love it when you sing.”

Sebastienne took in a deep, shuddering breath as she felt the pointed tip tease at her soft folds. She was about to tell her lover to ‘get the fuck on with it, I’ll be dry by the time you actually decide to fuck me’, when Jem lined up and pushed the toy inside of her with a smooth, fast roll of her slim hips. 

“Oh holy fucking God, Jem, yes,” Sebastienne moaned. She could feel her juices dripping down her inner thighs as Jem gripped her hips and set up a slow, lazy rhythm. The toy felt strange inside her, all bent out of shape and rubbing in _just the right spots_.

“Told you you’d like it, babe,” Jem said, her lilting voice smug and thick with lust. “Now be quiet and let the ‘Mother of Dragons’ take care of you.”

Sebastienne groaned and could have rolled her eyes, but the next thrust went deeper and felt so sweet that it drove out all coherent thought.

“Yes, _Khaleesi_.”


	3. You Never Helped

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based off of this prompt: "I wanna see a jimcest or mormormor fic where Jim goes all manic-angry and Rich is the only one who can calm him down."

Richard started awake with a small gasp, sitting up quickly in his bed and looking around in a daze. The room was dark and still, but something had woken up the younger Moriarty twin. He rubbed a hand along his stubbly cheek as his sleep dampened mind tried to analyze the situation.

Oh. His phone.

His mobile was buzzing faintly on his bedside table and he snatched it up to stare bleary eyed at the dimly lit screen. Jim was calling him, and it was what, 3:42 in the morning? There was no reason for his twin to be trying to get in touch with him, not at this god-forsaken hour. Rich toyed with the idea of ignoring the call, but he knew that would only anger Jim. With a sigh, he unlocked his phone and brought it up to his ear.

“Hullo?”

“Rich, thank fucking god.”

“Seb—Sebastian? I thought this was Jim, I-- Why are you calling me on Jim's phone?”

“The fucker broke mine. Listen, I need you to come over to our flat right now.”

“Seb, it's almost 4 in the morning. I have work at 9, I'm filming a new commercial, I can't miss it. Can't this wait...?”

“No. You need to grab a cab and get your arse over here. Jim is.... He's in one of his moods.”

“Oh... Can't you calm him down?”

“Nope. Tried everything. He won't respond to anything I do. I'm thinkin' you're the only thing that will calm him down.”

Richard dropped his head down with a weary sigh. “Alright. I'll be right over.”

“The door'll be unlocked.”

The line went dead and Rich let his phone fall from his hand to the bed. Jim had to be in a bad state, worse than usual if the burly sniper couldn't calm him down, and now Richard was being pulled from his bed, from his life to go take care of his unstable twin. A frustrated sob threatened to tear itself from the man's throat, it wasn't _fair_ , but he fought it down. No point in crying. Jim needed him, and Richard knew that there was no way he'd ever be able to say no to his brother.

With a sigh, he pulled himself from bed and got dressed.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

When he reached the flat that Sebastian and Jim shared, Richard could hear faint noises from the other side of the door. It sounded like things breaking, and there was a constant, high-pitched voice letting out a stream of angry words. Richard braced himself and opened the door, stepping inside slowly and carefully.

The living room was a disaster. Anything and everything that could be broken by a pair of too-pale, skinny arms had been destroyed. Richard felt his jaw drop as he stepped over a broken lamp.

“Thank fucking god you're here. I can't deal with him anymore, can't even try. He's in the bedroom. Good luck.”

The younger Moriarty twin looked up to see a very haggard, very exhausted looking Sebastian dragging his coat out from under a busted coffee table. “What—what triggered it?” Rich asked.

“No clue. He just came out of his office about an hour, hour and a half ago, and went berserk. I tried everything, Rich. Everything. Nothing worked.” The sniper sounded infinitely tired and almost desperate, and Richard felt his heart ache for the man.

“It's okay Seb. You can get out of here for a bit; I'll take over. Bring Jim's phone with you, and I'll call if I need you, ok?”

Sebastian gave Richard a grateful smile. “Thanks Rich. Be careful, alright? Don't want you getting hurt.” He walked to the door, giving Richard a quick peck on the cheek that left the smaller man blushing, before leaving for who knows where.

Richard rubbed at the spot Seb had kissed as he walked to the master bedroom. “Jim? It's me. It's Richard. I came to try and help.”

Jim looked up at the sound of his voice. He was sitting on the floor by his closet with a pile of his best suits next to him, methodically taking each garment and tearing at the seams with bloodied hands until the delicate strands popped and tore. He blinked his wide, too dark eyes and stilled for half a moment. “Richard?” 

Richard gave his brother a small smile as he took off his coat and folded it neatly, placing it on the bed on top of the torn sheets. “Yes, Jim.” He knelt down beside his twin and gently took Jim's ruined hand in his own, tugging the now worthless Armani suit jacket away and depositing it on the pile of destroyed clothing. “It's ok now, Jim. It's alright.”

Jim looked at him dumbly for a moment with glossy eyes, but the fog cleared quickly and he tore himself away from his twin with a screech. He stared at Richard with pure hatred, his thin chest rising and falling rapidly under the old t-shirt he was wearing as pure venom dripped from his mouth.

“Came to help me, did you? Did poor little Sebby call for you? Think I scared him. Think I convinced him that there's nothing he can do to save me.” Jim let out a cruel laugh and Richard, Richard could do nothing but sit there and pray that he'd be able to bring his twin back to him.

“He's starting to believe it. He's starting to realize that there's nothing inside me _worth_ saving.”

“That's not true, Jim,” Richard countered quietly. “You're—You're worth saving.”

Jim only sneered, a sharp smile twisting his features. “You truly believe that, don't you? Little innocent Richie. You were always so eager to see the good in people, even our worthless Da. Remember, Richie? Remember how he used to come into our room at night and use us? Force one of us on our knees and put his cock in our mouths as the other had to watch.”

Richard flinched away from Jim's harsh voice, from the terrible, terrible memories that threatened to burst in his mind. “Jim, stop this, please,” Richard pleaded softly, but if Jim heard him, he gave no sign.

“Even after that, with the taste of his disgusting come thick on your tongue, you would look up at me and say that that was the last time he would ever do it, that he loved us and felt terrible about the way he treated us, that he'd take care of us.” Jim crawled closer towards his twin, the gleam in his unhinged eyes frightening to Richard. “But you were wrong, Richie. He never stopped, never would have stopped if I hadn't put that bullet in his brain.”

Richard took in a shallow, shaky breath and shook his head, doing his best to ignore the pain Jim was trying rekindle. “You're going to be ok, Jim. Just calm down. Let's just lay in bed, ok? It's just you and me.”

Jim let out a sharp cry and brought a hand up to backhand Richard harshly. “You never helped me, Richard. You let Mum die. You never saved me from Da. You didn't stop Carl. You couldn't. You couldn't do anything. You're _weak_ , and I hate you,” he hissed.

Richard's lower lip quivered, from the pain in his cheek and the pain in his very bones. Jim was saying anything to try and hurt him, and it was working. 

“It's ok, Jim, it's ok,” he kept repeating. “I love you.” Jim brought his hand up again, as if to slap Richard, but the younger twin brought his own small hand to Jim's cheek and pressed his warm palm against it gently. “I need you.”

Jim froze, fury written on his face, but as the warmth from Rich's palm seeped into his skin, the fight seemed to leave Jim's body. He slumped down as the tears began to leak from his dead eyes. Jim never cried, never, and Richard knew that these were the tears of a broken body, not a broken mind. 

“It's alright, Jim,” he lied as he gathered his sobbing twin into his arms. Jim clutched at Richard, curling into his embrace as his tears soaked through Rich's thin shirt. “It's alright.” He pressed a kiss to Jim's head and settled down to wait for his twin to come back to him, for Jim to return from the recesses of his dark and brilliant mind.

They sat like that for what felt like forever. Eventually, Jim's tears dried and his breathing evened out. Richard was half-dozing, trying to squash the memories that Jim had dredged up, when the criminal stirred in his arms. Rich blinked heavily and shifted to look down at his brother. “Jim...?” he asked hesitantly.

Jim sat up, resting his hands on Richard's chest, gaze downcast. When Richard tried to speak again, Jim shushed him and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of Rich's mouth. “Thanks, Richie,” he murmured, and Richard could only smile in relief.

“Wish you had come before I got at the suits, though.”

Richard gave a small laugh, and broke down sobbing.


	4. Harder

“Harder.”

Richard tried to swallow down a sob, but it was ripped from his throat as his twin wrapped a thin, cold hand around his wrist. “Harder, Richard.”

He shook his head, fat tears rolling down his face. “P—please Jim, I don’t—don’t want to do this anymore.”

Jim dug his nails into Richard’s arm. “You don’t have a choice,” he hissed, and the younger Moriarty twin knew the criminal was right. If he didn’t comply, didn’t give Jim what he wanted, then the punishment would be far worse.

With a pathetic whimper, Richard drew his hand back and slapped Jim as hard as he could across the identical face. The already reddened skin grew a more violent scarlet as blood vessels burst underneath the paleness, and the outer edges of the mark continued to grow a nasty, bruised purplish color. But Jim hardly seemed to care as his head tipped back and an erotic moan slipped from his parted lips. His eyes, glazed over and dark as sin, flickered closed before focusing back in on Richard.

“Again,” he ordered hoarsely.

And Richard hit his brother again and again and again, trying to ignore the stinging in his hand and the dampened fabric stretched tight over Jim’s erection and his own sick, perverted lust coiling hot and guilty in his belly.


	5. Faster

“Faster.”

Richard obeyed and bobbed his head faster, eyes screwed shut as he focused on controlling his sensitive gag reflex, breathing hard through his nose. Sebastian moaned above him, but the noise was muffled by the large rubber ball gag in his mouth. The only clear sound in the room was the melodic, unaffected sound of Jim’s voice.

“Suck harder. And open your eyes, slut. Look up at Tiger as you suck him off.”

Richard could do nothing but obey, and with cheeks burning hot with both shame and uncontrollable lust, he opened his eyes and met Sebastian’s heavily-lidded gaze. The sniper’s hands convulsed where they gripped the counter-top— he was explicitly forbidden from touching Richard— and his hips pushed forwards, shoving his cock further down into the tights confines of the gentler Moriarty twins’ throat. 

“Pull out and come on his face.”

Sebastian nodded and gripped the back of Richard’s head. Jim tutted in disapproval, and both men knew that there would be hell to pay for directly disobeying an order, but neither could care much as Sebastian shot hot spurts of come across Rich’s face.

They were both panting hard, Richard flicking his tongue out to lick at the corners of his lips, when they heard Jim’s shoes clicking away on the hardwood floor.

“Bedroom, both of you. Now. That was just the appetizer.” Their gazes met for a moment longer, predator and prey, before both crawled after their master on their hands and knees. They were just toys, after all.


	6. Put Your Back Into It

“Honestly, Severin, it’s like you’re not even trying.”

Jim sounded bored, his typical song of a voice nothing more than a monotone drone as he gazed at his employee. One slim leg was crossed over the other and his foot bounced a slow rhythm in the air. “Go on, I know you can do better.”

Severin bit down on his lower lip viciously to hold back a curse, a scream, a cry. Richard was underneath him on the bed, his precious Richard, his back cut up and bleeding. The leather belt felt heavier in Sev’s hand than it should have as he stared at a particularly ragged stripe slashing right across Rich’s shoulder blades.

“Please, Jim,” the ex-soldier finally managed to bite out. “Please. No more”

Jim sat forward in his chair and the smolder was back in his voice, ashy and dark. “Are you going to disobey a direct order, Moran? Keep going, and _do not. Hold back_.”

Severin met his boss’ gaze for one defiant moment, but they both knew how it was going to end. It was inevitable.

Richard made no sounds— the weeping had stopped about 12 lashes ago— as Severin finally ran a hand soothingly down his lover’s arm. “Just a few more, Richie, that’s all. Then we can go back to our room. I’ll patch you up and we can go to sleep. It’ll be ok, Bunny. It’ll be ok.”

And that’s when Jim smiled. He loved the blood, he loved the cuts and the broken look on Severin’s face, the way Rich’s body twitched helplessly. But most of all, Jim loved the sweet, sweet lies.

_It’ll be ok Teddy, Bunny, Richie, Richard, love. It’ll be ok._


	7. Come Back Soon

“How long will you be gone?” 

Severin glanced over at the small, dark-haired Irishman just visible underneath the mound of blankets and grinned, finishing the knot in his tie. “Ah, don’t look so sad, Rich. It’s just a staff meeting. Jim won’t keep us more’n three, four hours max. I’ll come right back afterwards, promise.”

Richard tugged the comforter up a bit further to try and hide his pout, but his large dark eyes— so soft and warm— told Severin everything he needed to know. “I—I know it won’t be that long, really, but… I don’t want you to go,” Rich said in a small voice.

The blonde bit back a smile as he crossed the room and perched on the edge of the bed. “Don’t worry, Teddy. Just take a nap, or read a book, and I’ll be back before you know it.” He rubbed soothing circles onto Rich’s back through the blankets, leaning down to press a kiss to his pale temple.

Richard felt himself relaxing and lifted his head free of the blankets, demanding a kiss in his own shy, sweet way. Severin was more than happy to oblige, and they broke away smiling.

“Love you, Lion.”

“Love you, Teddy.


	8. Take Your Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on the prompt: "Severich texting while Sev's away on a job".

You didn’t tell me you were leaving. -RB

Sorry Rich, I didn’t want you to worry. You always get so worked up. -SvM

I do not! You just should have told me, I didn’t know where you were. -RB

Ya see? You’re all worked up now, aren’t you? Just calm down. Seb and I’ll be back before you know it. -SvM

If you’re going off to some godforsaken corner of the country for a job, I think I have the right to a little forewarning, is all. -RB

Jeez, Bunny, let’s put away the claws, shall we? What’s up with you? -SvM

It’s Jim. -RB

What, is he demanding you come to some suit fitting session or something? -SvM

He called me. He sounded strange, the way he does when he’s high. He always hurts me when he’s high. He said he was going to come over. -RB

Get out of the flat, Richard. Go get a hotel room for the night, don’t answer his calls, don’t tell him where you are. It’ll be fine. -SvM

Rich, answer me. -SvM

Get my spare credit card from my desk and use that to pay for the room. -SvM

You at a hotel yet? -SvM

Jesus fuck, Richard, answer my calls or at least text me. -SvM

I’m coming home early. Sebastian is going to finish the job. -SvM

Don’t bother hurrying, Rinny Rin. Richie dear is a little indisposed at the moment. Take your time. xJim -RB


	9. Apiphobia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based off the prompt: "Write about Jim’s love for wasps or a fear of bees".

In the small backyard of the Moriarty household, there had been a giant ash tree. Young James Moriarty had always loved to climb it, conquer it, sit in the topmost branch and look down on the world below. Until, that is, a swarm of bees built a hive in it one summer.

The nest hung heavy and dark from a tree limb, humming with life and the movement of big, fluffy bees. Jim’s mother warned him to stay away from it, ‘leave them alone and they’ll leave you alone’. His Da was supposed to take care of it, but week after week passed without a thing being done.

Jim didn’t like the hive. Something about it unsettled him, caused the scrawny seven year old to hang back and play closer to the house. But the tree was _his_ , and he wanted it back, and if his Da wouldn’t do anything about it, then Jim would.

So he found the biggest rock he could and hefted it up with his thin arms, carrying it to the base of the tree. The docile bees went about their business and ignored the young boy and his rock. But the noise, the incessant humming, angered Jim even further. How dare those stupid little insects scare him away from what was rightfully his.

With an angry scowl twisting his thin face, Jim lifted the rock and threw it with all his might. For one brief moment he was the victor as he watched the hive fall loose from the tree and fall towards the ground. But then everything went wrong. The bees, startled and threatened, swarmed him. He screamed loud and long as he felt dozens of tiny wings beating around him and the prick of sharp little stingers puncturing his exposed arms and legs.

He had to go to the hospital after that, all swollen and in pain, with fat tears rolling down his puffy face. The remnants of the hive were removed by a professional, and after a few days, Jim was allowed to go home. He had won back his tree, and he spent the rest of the summer scaling its leafy heights once more. But from then on, Jim Moriarty harbored a deep and permanent fear of bees. Just don’t tell his sniper that.


	10. Pics Or It Didn't Happen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on the prompt: "Richard taking pictures. I’ll letchya do what you’d like with that".

Richard hated Thursday nights more than he hated most things. He hated that he still had school the next day, and that he and Mum couldn’t watch their favorite program together anymore, and that Jim always made him go to work on Thursdays.

He and Jim were 17 years old and their loving mother had been dead for 5 years. Their Da barely even noticed their presence anymore; he was drunk more often than he was sober. That left Jim and Rich to tend for themselves, which really meant that Jim took care of the both of them. Not that Richard begrudged him that, not really, not when he knew that he’d never have survived on his own. But the things Jim made him do every Thursday. God, he hated it.

Richard stood in the dimly lit bathroom of the small motel room and looked at himself in the mirror. His cheeks were still pink from where they’d been playfully slapped, though Richard had felt more malice in the hits than foreplay. His nipples were puffy and swollen from all the biting and the subsequent nipple clamps (tightened far too much, pushing away any pleasure and leaving behind just pain). A few hickeys dotted his neck, but he’d be able to cover those with a bit of makeup and a sweatshirt, thankfully. Darkish bruises dotted his slim hips from large, strong hands; he’d have to remember to change in the corner of the locker room for gym tomorrow. His cock was still half-hard, despite his best efforts to stay detached during the job. And he could feel an unpleasant, thick liquid dripping from his buttocks down the backs of his thighs: Jim never let them come inside of his arse, always made them wear a condom, but they could come anywhere else on him if they so chose. It was all part of the agreement.

Jim had been whoring Richard out for almost five months by then, taking the frightened and frankly beautiful boy down to street corners outside high-end pubs and clubs. Wealthy, well-to-do men never seemed to grow tired of Richard’s quivering lower lip or his wide, nervous eyes. Jim could always find a client, and they always paid the boys well.

With a bit of a wince, Richard bent over and pulled his phone out of his bag from where it lay on the tiled floor. He snapped a few pictures in the mirror of his face, his neck, close-ups of his nipples, the round fingertip bruises and his neglected, traitorous cock. He turned around and bent at the waist to present his arse to the mirror. It’d taken him a few attempts at getting the angle right for this picture, but by then he was a pro. He held the phone behind him and squeezed his eyes shut at the electronic sound of the camera’s shutter.

With the pictures taken, Richard cleaned himself up and redressed before sending them to Jim. That was how his twin knew that Richard had done his job, that he had the money and a satisfied client. As Rich snuck out of the motel room, ignoring the man who’d fucked him and being equally ignored, he received a text from his twin:

_Well, that one was a bit rough, wasn’t he? But don’t worry, baby. I still think you look pretty. Hurry home, lovey. xJM_


	11. New Ink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on the prompt: "Seb giving both Jim and Richie tattoos".

“I don’t think this is really a good idea, Jim. Or very sanitary, for that matter.”

“Oh, stop worrying. Honestly, Richie, it’s just a little tattoo. Nothing to fret about.”

Richard frowned, nervous and scared and annoyed and just a tiny, itty-bitty bit excited as he watched Sebastian put the finishing touches on Jim’s tattoo. He’d never had the nerve to get a real tattoo, and never actually planned on following through with such a wild and crazy idea, not really. Until, that is, Jim and Sebastian had traipsed into the living room with the news that Jim was bored and of course that meant tattoos for all.

Sebastian’s hand was steady and precise as he pricked the thin sewing needle, attached to a pencil to make it easier to hold, into Jim’s pale skin. The black ink dots formed a small, relatively well-drawn crown right above the jut of Jim’s hip bone, and the criminal looked down at it with satisfaction.

“Good job, Bastian. Maybe we should open a little tattoo parlor on the side, what do you think?”

Seb set the crude tattoo gun down and dabbed at Jim’s new ink with a cloth. “Wouldn’t mind that at all actually. Right, Richard next?” Jim nodded, and Richard began to roll up the sleeve of his shirt. 

“Woah, slow down there, lovey. Who said you’re getting the tattoo on your arm?”

Richard stared at his twin in confusion. “But that’s— that’s where I’ve always wanted one.”

Jim shook his head with a positively gleeful grin on his face. “Oh no, Richard my sweet. Not on your arm. No, I need you to drop your trousers and bend over the arm of the couch for me. I’ve always thought that you’d look so cute with a little four leaf clover on your arse.”

Sebastian chuckled, Jim snapped his fingers, and Richard swallowed down a groan as he unbuckled his belt.


	12. Study Session

Richard had to bite down, hard, on the back of his hand to keep quiet. His school uniform trousers were pooled around his ankles and his free hand was pressed flat against the wall behind him in a search for support and balance. This part of the library was quiet, tucked back in a little corner of the building with shelf upon shelf of dusty old books. Hardly anyone ever went back there anymore.

But Richard knew that they could be discovered at any moment, and that just got his heart hammering harder.

Jim was in front of him, bent over at the waist and bracing himself on the opposite wall, with such a beautiful sway in his back that it almost made Richard want to cry. Both of their jackets were on the floor, messily tossed aside next to their backpacks in their haste to get at each other. Jim was rocking his hips back and forth, fucking himself on his twin’s cock and biting his lip to hold back the slutty moans that they both knew he wanted to release.

When Richard had asked Jim to meet him in the library for a study session, this was not what he had had in mind. But Jim had dragged him back there, rubbing at his crotch and telling him in no small detail of how he’d just been working himself open in the bathroom, finally able to get three fingers inside and wouldn’t Richard love to see that sometime?

Jim pressed his hips back and ground them against Richard in a sloppy, rough circle. Richard bit down hard and broke skin and, with the coppery taste of his own blood in his mouth, he came deep inside his brother. 

Knowing what Jim wanted, what Jim needed, and before he could lose his post-orgasm nerve, Richard dealt a sharp slap to Jim’s arse and watched in rapture as his brother came as well. 

When they were both redressed, Richard’s cheeks burning with shame and a victorious smirk plastered to Jim’s face, the bolder teenager let out a trilling laugh.

“Oh, don’t look like that, Richard. It’s not like we actually even need to study.”


	13. No Use Telling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based off the prompt: "Jim and Richard trying to tell someone about how their da treats them".

“It’s no use, Richard. She knows Da, they’re friends or something. She was never going to believe us.”

“Bu—but Jim, I tried to show her the—the bruises and—”

“Stop sobbing, Richie. You’re like a baby.” Jim frowned and brought a hand up to wipe at Richard’s tear-stained cheeks. The twins were sitting on the steps outside their school, huddled close together against the chilly wind. “I told you it was no use trying to tell someone. Everyone just feels bad for Da because Mum died.”

Richard gulped in a deep, shuddering breath of air as he tried to control his crying. “But he was—was _using_ us before Mummy went away. I’ve always had the bru—bruises.”

“She died, Richie,” Jim corrected. “Not went away. Ms. McKenzie just thinks your bruises are from us playing. If anything, she thinks we fight and I hit you too hard.” He brushed Richard’s hair back from his forehead and pressed a kiss there. “No one’ll ever believe us, Richie. We’re just kids, and Da’s too good at pretending everything is fine and normal. I’ll take care of you, though. Even if no one else will.”

“But she’s our teacher. She should—should care. It’s not _fair_.” 

“It’s not…. Come on, let’s go. It’s cold and Da will come looking for us if we take too much longer. We can stop by the old fence on the way home, though, look for some bunnies.”

“Al—alright…. You’ll never hurt me though, will you, Jimmy?”

“Never. I love you, Richie.”

“Love you, Jimmy.”


	14. Hard Limits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on the prompt: "Ooh can you write something about Jim and Seb’s turn-offs, pretty please?"

The one and only time Jim ever safe-worded was when Sebastian spat on him. The sniper hadn’t even thought about it, really; it just sort of happened in the midst of their foreplay. Seb was dominant that night, owning Jim like the little slut he was, and he was pulling his cock out of Jim’s mouth after a nice face-fucking session when he spit on Jim. The saliva landed on the Irishman’s cheek and the change in the criminal was almost instantaneous: Jim went from begging whore to wide-eyed statue in a second, a hand flying up to wipe at his face.

Sebastian froze as well, knowing he’d done something horribly wrong even before the safe word slipped from Jim’s lips. The night ended then and there, with a broken nose for Sebastian and a month of no sex. 

He later found out, long after the incident, why it had triggered Jim so much: back when he was in school, Jim had often been the favorite target of every bully and thug in his class. They used to beat him till he was bruised and bleeding, and always spat on him before they left him lying alone on the ground. Sebastian knew then how it made Jim feel: weak, abused, and not in the good way, not in the ‘this is just sex and we both know I’m in charge anyways’ kind of way, but in the honest to God powerless way. Seb never spat on Jim again.

As for Sebastian, his hard limit was reached when his little fucker of a boss tried to fist him. Seb was a tough bastard, he could take the majority of Jim’s abuses, but he’d never been one for bottoming much. Sure, he’d let Jim fuck him when the little psychopath wanted. It was fine then, because it was with Jim. But unless he was being dominated by a small dark-haired Irishman, he didn’t like feeling of being filled up.

So when Jim started working a fourth finger into Seb’s already stretched hole one night, the sniper immediately grew wary. Jim murmured some supposed-to-be soothing words, though, and Sebastian let it go for the moment. He relaxed back down and focused on the feeling of his hard cock against the mattress underneath, trying to rub his hips to get some friction.

But then the fucker tried getting his thumb in there, too. Sebastian could feel it pressing against the rim of his arsehole and that was enough of that, thanks. He shouted the safe word and squirmed away, slipping free of Jim’s ministrations. Jim broke down in laughter, Sebastian burned hot with embarrassment and rage, and the ensuing fight ended in seven broken chairs and a ripped Armani from the 2008 fall collection.

Jim and Sebastian were hard asses, but even hard asses have their hard limits.


	15. Locker Room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Teen!Severich smut based off of this gloriously NSFW gif: http://mengaymes.tumblr.com/post/47779460662

“Se—Severin! We… we _can’t_! Someone could—could walk in and see us, or—or _hear_ us. You know how loud I am,” Richard stuttered, his voice dropping low at the end as his cheeks burned with a blush. His boyfriend, strong and blonde and still sweaty from rugby practice, grinned.

“Aww, come on, Richie. Most of the team has left by now, and it was just dumb luck that you finished rehearsal the same time practice let out. It’s _fate_.” He tugged his shirt off and dropped it into his bag as Richard shot nervous glances around the empty locker room, standing awkwardly by and twisting the hem of his own shirt between his fingers.

“Public sex is illegal, Severin, and if people found out you were— with me, they’d— they’d never let you hear the end of it. We’d get in so much trouble, and my Da would find out, and—”

Severin cut him off with a kiss, an arm wrapping around Richard’s thin waist to pull the small teenager close. “You worry too much, babe,” he murmured, moving his lips to mouth at Rich’s earlobe. 

Rich’s knees buckled and his eyes fluttered as Severin abused a known-erogenous zone, and really, that just wasn’t fair. All coherent thought seemed to evaporate from Richard’s mind as Severin nipped at the fleshy lobe. “But— No— No lube…”

“I have lotion,” Sev replied, as if that settled the matter. And it basically did. Richard’s resolve was all but gone by then as he rutted his slim hips against Severin’s muscled thigh with little gasps. The blonde bit back a smirk, pressed another kiss to Richard’s lips, and stepped back to finish stripping. He was used to being naked in the locker room, used to the chill air and the feeling of a public setting. But Richard wasn’t. And as Severin began to strip him down too, tugging at his shirt until Richard lifted his arms, the timid Moriarty twin seemed to shrink in on himself. He wrapped his arms across his chest to try and cover the exposed skin, but Severin gently pulled them away so he could litter the pale expanse of skin with soft kisses.

“Oh… Severin,” Richard breathed out as the other’s mouth found one of his nipples, already hard from the shock of the air. Severin swirled his tongue around the pink nub before letting his teeth graze the over-sensitive skin. That pulled a shocked gasp from Rich, and his small hands flew up to card through Severin’s hair.

Sev flicked his eyes up towards Richard’s face to meet his gaze as he licked a stripe down to the light trail of dark hair disappearing into Rich’s jeans. He dropped to his knees and palmed Richard’s hidden erection as he bit lightly at the other boy’s jutting hip bone, leaving behind a dark and beautiful mark. That one would last for weeks, a reminder of their transgression in the locker room, and Severin let out a groan of his own at the thought of pressing his thumb into it as he fucked Richard deep into a mattress later on. Oh, it was beautiful.

Richard’s jeans and pants pooled at his ankles after Severin tugged them down, and the older teen urged the boy to step out of them. “There ya go,” he cooed, rubbing the back of Rich’s thigh soothingly as the brunette let out a whimper. “No one’s going to find us, love. Don’t worry.” Richard nodded, a bit too quickly, but he trusted Severin. He really did. They would be fine. But the thought of being caught still scared him and, to his embarrassment, aroused him more than it ever should. His cock was red and leaking and his pulse was pounding as Severin straightened up and grabbed a bottle of lotion from his bag.

He brandished it at Richard, smirking as he took his boyfriend by hand and led him over to a shower stall entrance. “Just brace yourself on the wall… There, like that, one hand there and the other… Perfect. Spread your legs a bit, make sure you’re balanced. Good…” Severin kissed Richard’s nape as the boy arched his back, shifted from foot to foot slightly, tested the stability of his stance. “Ready?”

Rich nodded, lower lip trembling slightly as he ground his arse back against Severin’s cock in an open invitation to continue. Severin groaned, pumping a blob of lotion out onto his hand before placing the bottle on the floor. With one arm wrapped underneath Richard’s armpit, hand gripping his shoulder, Severin slid his lubed up fingers between Richard’s cheeks. The smaller teen let out an involuntary whimper as his boyfriend teased his rim, his head falling back to bare his neck. Severin took advantage of that, sucking and nipping on the soft skin as he worked his first finger in to the second knuckle. They’d just fucked the night before, so thankfully Richard was still a bit loose. Sev didn’t want to have to wait very long to open Richard up, as selfish as that was; he was far too wound up and eager for the fuck, and he knew Richard was too by the way he was pushing his hips down in search of more penetration.

Severin obliged, pressing a second finger into Rich’s hole and pushing them in as far as they could go. When he crooked them, rubbing Richard’s inner walls, the boy keened loudly. “Shhh, Richie. Not so loud,” Severin reprimanded, though there was more tease in his voice than anything else. He lifted his hand from Richard’s shoulder and pressed two of his fingers against Rich’s cheek until the teenager turned his head and sucked the digits into his mouth. Richard always loved to suck on something, whether it was Severin’s cock or his fingers or a dildo, and it muffled the sounds that escaped him as Sev got a third finger in. A win-win for both of them, really.

Richard swirled his tongue around the fingers shoved deep in his mouth and gave a low groan, ready and impatient for more. Severin grinned, “Alright, alright, I suppose you’re prepped enough,” and slowly, so very slowly, slid his fingers out from Richard’s arse. He felt empty now, uncomfortably so as his arse clenched on open air and Severin popped his fingers out of his mouth, but Richard knew that he was about to be filled to the brim. So he kept quiet as Severin moved behind him, squirting more lotion out onto his hand and slicking up his cock.

“Ready, babe?” Richard gave another nod and bit his lower lip as Severin took his prick in hand, spread Rich’s cheeks, and began to press into him. 

“O—Ohhhh, Rin,” Richard moaned, his voice quavering. Severin let out a low curse as the tight heat enveloped his prick, a breathless chuckle escaping as he bottomed out. “I know, Rich. Fuck, I know.”

Severin gripped Richard’s hips as began to fuck the boy slowly, giving them both time to adjust to the feeling. Soon enough, though, the push and pull was smooth. Sev released Rich, letting his hands fall to the side as he continued to work his cock deep into his boyfriend. 

Richard, for his part, was doing his best to keep quiet, his mouth hanging open as little noises fell from his lips. It was good, so good, the feeling of being filled with a thick cock, and truth be told Richard was more of a whore then he let on. Just for Severin, though. Only for Severin. Well, and Jim, but that was—

Severin leaned forward a bit and captured the shell of Richard’s ear between his teeth, worrying the skin and cartilage underneath as Richard turned his head into the bite. “Please—Please, Severin, please,” he begged in a soft voice, his breathing coming fast and shallow. All he could hear was his boyfriend’s own ragged breath, but Severin must have taken pity on him, because a strong hand soon found its way to his leaking cock.

The contact was so sweet, their skin on fire where it touched and rubbed and met, and Severin was buried so deep inside him. Richard was close. It was almost painful, the orgasm gathering and coiling in his lower belly as Severin jerked him off. He knew that the blonde was close, too: the rhythm of his thrusts had changed, going from long and smooth to short and quick. They were both teetering on the edge when the sound of a door banging open broke the heavy silence of the locker room.

Richard let out a yelp, the shock pushing him over the edge in the blink of an eye. His body jolted with orgasm and Severin was right behind him, both of their loads spilling out in hot dribbles, one into a hand, the other deep into a small and lithe body.

The younger Moran twin was the first to react, just a split moment after the come finished spurting from his cock. As gently as he could, he shoved Richard into the shower stall and yanked the curtain closed. Richard, too caught up in his release and shock, stumbled to the bench in the stall and sat without a sound, pulling his knees up to his chest.

“Oy! Moran, you still— What the fuck? Holy _shit_ , were you wanking off?”

Severin turned towards his teammate and forced a sheepish grin to his face as the come dripped from his fingers. “You caught me. Didn’t think anybody was gonna walk in.” The other athlete laughed, shaking his head as he grabbed his belongings from a locker. “What, did Coach get you all riled up during practice?”

“Oh, you know it. The way he barked out those drills just got me going,” Severin joked back, falling into an easy manner as the shock wore off. 

“Sick bastard,” the other boy said with a grin, giving Severin a wave as he made his way back out of the locker room.

Severin waited a moment once the door closed before ripping the curtain open and rushing to kneel by Richard. “Holy fuck, Rich, I am so sorry. You were right, this was a bad idea, I—”

He was cut off abruptly as Richard broke into laughter. A genuine smile was on his face, cheeks still red from their exertion, as he cupped the back of Severin’s neck and pulled him into a kiss. “That was _exciting_ ,” he said through his giggles. “We should do that again soon.”

Severin stared at him for just one moment before he too broke down into laughter. “Holy shit, Richie. Always knew you were kinky.”


	16. Adrenaline

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Sometimes Sev gets rough when he’s high off adrenaline from a kill". Based off the BEAUTIFUL picture by cumberbunnyyy, who gave me permission to write this little fic off of it: http://cumberbunnyyy.tumblr.com/post/50910816017/sometimes-sev-gets-rough-when-hes-high-off

Richard would be lying if he said he wasn’t scared. 

He was usually scared when Severin came home from a job, though. There was something about the way Rin would look at him, like he was hungry for something and Richard was the only thing that could appease his appetite. Most of the time, however, Severin would simply prowl off to the bathroom, have a hot shower, and come back out as the gentle and loving man that Richard turned him into. The blonde would sweep the youngest Moriarty into his arms and kiss him until all the tension and nerves were gone from his small body.

But that night was different. Richard knew it the moment he heard the door open. He was in the kitchen, finishing up the final touches on a cake he was making (he always baked when Severin was on a job, sort of a nervous habit), but he froze when he heard the door slam shut. A few moments of silence followed with no heavy footsteps to fill them up. Richard wiped his hands off on a cloth before cautiously making his way out into the front hall. For one wild moment he thought that someone had finally found him, one of Jim’s enemies or someone who would take him to get to his brother.”R—Rin? Is that you?” he called out in a high, scared voice.

“Yea, s’me, Bunny,” came the gruff reply. Richard exhaled in a relief that was cut short when he caught sight of his lover. Severin looked wild. His hair, slicked back so nicely that morning, was falling loose and framing his face; his black leather gloves still covered his hands, the gloves that Richard hated because they meant that Severin had just killed; and his eyes were stormy, more hard grey than blue and staring at Richard with a fervor that made Rich’s blood run cold. “C’mere, Richard.”

Richard blinked wide eyes at the older man before he was able to obey, his body moving forward much faster than he wanted. Severin growled impatiently and grabbed Richard by the shoulders as soon as he was close enough, pressing him up against the wall and caging him in. Rich’s small hands fluttered helplessly until the finally landed on Severin’s muscled chest. “R—Rin, please, y—you’re scaring me. Let me go—”

“Shhh, Bunny. It’s ok,” Severin murmured, his voice thick and rough. He leaned in and nuzzled his face into the crook of Richard’s neck, and the dark haired man realized with a blush that Severin was smelling him. “Mmmm, I missed you today. Thought about you the whole time during the job. Could hardly wait to get back here to you. Did you miss me too, Bunny?”

Richard pushed against Severin’s chest but it was useless: Severin was strong and solid, and there was no moving him unless he wanted to be moved. “I—I missed you too, but can’t we t—talk after you take a shower? I made cake,” he said weakly, his heart hammering against his chest.

“I don’t want cake,” Severin replied, pulling his head back up to gaze down at his small lover. “I want you. Your body. I want to hear you screaming for me… The target screamed today, begged for me to spare him. And I thought, wouldn’t it sound so lovely to have Richie begging underneath me like that, screaming his voice raw for me.” Severin smirked, a small and dangerous smile that had Richard frozen where he stood. “I’m going to fuck you, Bunny. Right here, right now. Because you’re mine and I’ve waited all day to have you again. It’ll hurt-” Richard whimpered. “-but I know you’ll love it. You’re such a little slut for me, all innocent on the outside but just as dirty and dark on the inside as I am. You’ll cry and plead and scream and come for me as I fuck you hard and deep.”

Richard’s cheeks burned with arousal and his breath raced in and out of him. “Oh God,” he moaned, gaze dropping as he gave in. There was no point in fighting. All that was left to do was submit. Severin chuckled lowly at Richard’s consent and flipped the small man around, pressing his upper body against the wall with his arms braced over head, his back swayed to present his arse, his legs spread wide. A gloved hand palmed roughly at Richard’s hidden cock as the other undid the man’s belt, button, and zip; Rin tugged Rich’s trousers and pants down to his ankles before undoing his own trousers enough to pull out his already hard cock.

His erection pressed hot and firm against Richard’s arse as the smaller man was made to suck on three of Severin’s fingers. “Good boy,” Rin cooed as he slipped his wet digits between Rich’s cheeks, probing at his hole until one finger slipped in. Richard cried out at the intrusion. It hurt and it brought tears to the corners of his eyes, but Severin didn’t stop until he had all three fingers buried deep inside of Richard. He pumped them in and out, the leather catching and tugging on the sensitive skin and muscle. “Say it,” Severin growled as he sloppily fingerfucked Richard open. “Say you want my cock.”

Richard’s chest heaved, caught between the wall and Severin, as he sobbed out, “Please, Lion, please, I want your cock!” The fingers disappeared, Severin spat in his hand and lubed his cock, lined up, and as he pushed inside his small lover with a single thrust Richard screamed. And fuck all if it wasn’t the most beautiful sound Severin had ever heard. 

Sometimes Severin could get rough after a kill, rough his like twin, rough like he was born to be. And it scared Richard, it did, but maybe he’d be lying too if he said that he didn’t like it.


	17. A Dinner Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim and Sebastian fly to America to dine with a new friend. Based off the prompt: "Some sort of hanlock something? Maybe Jim and Seb get invited to one of Hannibal's dinner parties? Idc, whatever strikes your fancy~"

Sebastian looked down at his plate and only just held back a disgusted grimace. He was expected to _eat_ this? Sure, it looked fantastic, something you'd find in a fancy gourmet food magazine, the picture all glossy and perfectly lit. Hell, it even smelled delicious. But only if you didn't know what it actually was.

_“So we're going all the way to fuckin' America just to have a dinner party with some ex-surgeon?”_

_“Not just an ex-surgeon, Bastian. He's so much more.”_

_“......Yea? You gonna elaborate on that?”_

_“In due time, Tiger. In due time.”_

“Mr Moran, you've yet to touch your plate. Is something amiss?”

Sebastian raised his gaze from his food to their host and forced a smile. What a weird fuckin' accent, but it suited the man. “Nothin', Dr. Lecter. Just... Savoring the moment, is all.”

Hannibal Lecter gave him a smile in return that was disarmingly genuine, and Sebastian could see how he'd been able to remain undetected for so long: brilliant, a gracious host, with a refined and dignified air about him. But Jim was right. He wasn't just an ex-surgeon.

_“Don't know why we needed a new plane just to fly to fuckin' America.”_

_“Oh shush. It was time for an upgrade anyways, so quit complaining.”_

_“So what's so special about this Dr. Lecter, anyways? You've never wanted to see a shrink before.”_

_“We're not visiting as patients, though Lord knows your psyche could warrant a visit or two.”_

_“Har-har, Boss.”_

_“He's one of us, Sebastian.”_

_“A criminal?”_

_“A murderer.”_

Jim was sitting across the table from the sniper and gave Hannibal an apologetic smile. “Bastian simply doesn't have the same cultivated palate as we do, I'm afraid.” Hannibal dipped his head in acknowledgment of the subtle apology as Jim fixed cold eyes on his employee. “Now don't be rude, Tiger. Have a taste.” His mouth twitched at the corners and Sebastian knew Jim was enjoying this much more than he probably should. The bastard had already finished half his serving.

_“So he kills people, big fuckin' whoop. There are plenty of murderers in England. Hell, there are plenty of those right in London. What's so different about him?”_

_“He has an, ah-- unique way of disposing of the bodies.”_

_“Yeah? And what's so unique about it?”_

_“He eats them.”_

Never in his life did Sebastian Moran think he would eat a person. Yet there he was, sitting at the dinner table with his psychotic boss and their new psychotic, cannibalistic buddy, a nice heaping plate of person sitting in front of him. He picked up his fork, eyes locked with Jim's in a silent battle that he knew he was going to lose, and scooped up a chunk of John Doe. Hannibal watched silently from behind the rim of his wine glass as the sniper brought the forkful to his mouth, sucked in a deep breath, and ate it. Jim grinned, Hannibal smirked, and Sebastian hated himself because fuck all, it was delicious.

_“He eats them? He's a fuckin' cannibal?”_

_“Yes, I suppose you could label him with that crass term, though the meals he makes of his victims are said to be masterpieces. I'm curious about him. I want to learn more. And who knows, it could be beneficial to have such a friend as he in the old colonies.”_

_“Jesus fuck, Jim, I have done a lot of crazy shit in my day but this takes the fucking cake.”_

_“You better mind your manners at dinner, Sebastian, or else dear old Dr. Lecter will have a nice shank of Tiger for his next meal.”_

“And how is it, Mr. Moran?” Hannibal asked in that queer accent of his.

Sebastian swallowed his mouthful, swigged down some his wine, and slowly met the Doctor's gaze. “It's... It's delicious, Dr. Lecter. Thanks very much.”

“Of course, Mr. Moran. Always happy to cook for new friends. Here's to a healthy and prosperous relationship.” Hannibal raised his glass, Jim followed suite-- looking pleased as punch, the fucker-- and Sebastian had no choice but to raise his glass to the toast as well.

“Friends, food, and everything in between,” Jim added.

“And strong stomachs,” Sebastian murmured, draining his glass.


	18. Hematolagnia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rin has a thing for blood.

Pain and copper, that’s what blood tasted like. Severin had had enough mouthfuls of his own blood after fights at school, knuckles raw and nose misplaced, lips split and cracked and oozing the thick red liquid down his chin. He’d swipe it up with his tongue and savor the taste: sometimes it was victory, sometimes defeat, but always it was strong and raw and vital.

Sometimes he would catch a drop of Sebastian’s on the tip of his finger when he found his brother in the same disheveled and broken state, tucked away in some corner outside their school. His twin tasted different, more potent and with a sharp undertone that shot liquid fire into his stomach and made his toes curl. The first time they fucked Severin scratched and scratched at his brother’s taut skin until he pulled the crimson drops to the surface and lapped at them like an overgrown cat, his own body bruised and sweaty and covered in Sebastian’s come.

When they joined the army there was never a shortage of blood. It sprayed onto his face and clothes when his comrades were obliterated by explosives, hidden land mines and air raids. It hit him in a red mist as he drove his knife into each enemy combatant over and over until the thing underneath him was no longer human and he himself wasn’t much better. One time he even snuck into the tent of one of his own friends, a handsome bloke he’d been eyeing for some time. Really, it had just been a small scratch that he’d given the man, just enough to get to the blood underneath and taste it, but they’d discharged him for it, him and Sebastian who was too violent by half anyways.

When Jim Moriarty found them and took them in, he showed Severin how exquisite his passion could really be, how he could use the body as a canvas and the blood as his paint. From then on Severin savored the flow of red blood more properly whenever he opened up the throat of some shrieking and writhing target, gave it the reverence it deserved as he trickled just enough onto his tongue to get the poignant and powerful taste of death and agony.

But it wasn't until Severin met Richard that he finally discovered the true sanctity of blood. In bed, with Richard’s back pressed against his chest and his cock buried deep inside the small actor, Severin would bite at the pale and painfully beautiful line of Richard’s neck, tongue running over the faint blue veins hidden beneath the porcelain. And when the blood began to dribble into his mouth and Richard began to cry out his name, Severin would swear he had found God at last.


	19. Please, Jim

"Open your fucking mouth, James," Sebastian growled, gritting his teeth and white-knuckling the headboard. Underneath him, Jim smirked, eyes dark and playful as he bit on his lower lip and shook his head. Sebastian hit his palm against the wood, swearing as he struggled to control himself. What had started out as a pleasant blowjob, Jim ordering Sebastian to sit above him on the bed so he could suck him off and still rest on a pillow-- "Don't want to strain my neck, Tiger."-- had gone from pleasant to painful. The sniper had been on the cusp, the very _cusp_ , of blowing his load when Jim had popped off his cock and clamped his mouth shut, refusing to open up again. 

Now, since it was explicitly against the rules to come anywhere on Jim other than in his mouth or in his arse, Sebastian didn't have many options. One of Jim's slim hands was resting on the back of his thigh, nails digging into tanned skin to let Sebastian know that moving off the bed was not a viable choice. And coming right onto the criminal's face was surely a death-sentence, or at least a sex-ban, and for Sebastian, those two things were basically the same. So there he was, gripping the base of his cock and sweating like a pig as he struggled to stave off his release.

" _Please_ , Jim, for the love of fuck, just open your mouth," Sebastian begged, hoping that pleading would be the right path. But the criminal was obstinate, eyes shining and silent laughs wracking his small body as his employee struggled above him. "I swear, if you don't open your mouth, I will piss on all of your suits." Still nothing. "Jim, I will let you fuck me over your desk everyday for a month if you'll just let me finish, _please_." No response, but now there were thin fingers running over his tight balls and Sebastian groaned loudly, eyes rolling into the back of his head.

"Jim, I can't--can't hold it in, I'm gonna fucking explode, oh shit..." Jim slid his fingers from Sebastian's drawn-up balls down to his hole, brushing over the puckered entrance and pushing ever-so-lightly and that was it. Sebastian couldn't hold it in any longer. His hand flew from his cock to Jim's ebony hair, gripping the dark strands as he gave in. Ropes of hot, white come flew onto Jim's face, coating his pale cheeks and catching on his dark eyelashes, and all Sebastian could do was hiss and groan and shake.

When the last of his come dribbled from the tip of his cock, Sebastian squeezed his eyes shut, cursing under his breath. He'd fucked up. "James, I'm--"

But before he could apologize, beg for forgiveness, a warm mouth was wrapped around the head of his prick, licking up the remaining come. Sebastian's eyes flew wide and he stared down at his debauched boss, sucking in a sharp breath. 

Jim laid back on the pillow, dragging a finger through a white line right across his cheekbone, sucking it clean before grinning. "Sebby, my love, my _sweet_... That was a test of self-control, and I'm afraid you failed. On your stomach now, darling. Daddy has to punish you. But first, be a good lad and lick me clean."


	20. Flying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bertholdt/Reiner.

Falling in love was like flying, Bertholdt decided.

One day he’d simply looked at Reiner and suddenly everything froze. He was suspended in the moment, the same sort of calm and mindlessness and subtle fear settling over him that he felt the first time he jumped from a platform and released the cables of his 3DMG. There was nothing underneath him but air, his body rising in a steady arc, quiet all around him, and he knew that it wouldn’t last because he’d have to fall, fall and blindly trust that he would be caught at the last second.

And then Reiner looked back, met his gaze, and Bertholdt was dropping down down down, the ground seemed to be rising fast to meet him. His blood pumped loudly and viciously through his veins, his heart felt near to bursting, his skin was burning with the ice of the wind cutting across it and he wasn’t going to make it, he wasn’t going to be able to pull up out of his fall in time, he’d hit the ground and everything would go black and silent forever.

And then Reiner, with a new light in his eyes that Bertl had never seen before, leaned in and brushed a kiss across his lips, and Bertl was saved, the hooks of the cables had found purchase and he was swinging back up and up and up, exultation flooding his body and all he wanted to do was whoop and yell as he flew back high into the air. He knew he’d never fall now, knew he’d always be caught. His feet may graze the ground but he’d soar back up before he could fail.

Falling in love was like flying, Bertholdt decided. And flying was magnificent.


	21. The Best Ever Death Metal Band In Denton

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based off the song The Best Ever Death Metal Band in Denton by The Mountain Goats. All lyrics lovingly borrowed from them.

_the best ever death metal band out of Denton_  
 _were a couple of guys_  
 _who’d been friends since grade school_

James Moriarty didn’t believe in God.

When the nuns caught him behind the chapel with the school’s top athlete—Sebastian Moran— on his knees in front of him, they kept him in the church for a solid seven hours, going on and on about how God abhorred homosexuality, how Jim’s immortal soul was at risk from all the drugs and sex and sin that the fifteen year old boy wrapped himself in. Jim just looked them in the eyes with a smirk on his face, raising two spread fingers to his mouth and wiggling his tongue obscenely between them.

_Jeff and Cyrus believed in their hearts  
they were headed for stage lights and Lear jets and fortune and fame_

James Moriarty didn’t believe in the Devil, either.

"It’s all a crock of shit, Sebastian," he’d drawl to his sniper, draped over an excessively expensive couch in his excessively expensive flat. "God and the Devil; the perfect dichotomy to keep the ignorant masses under the thumbs of the rich and powerful. Well, I’m rich, and I’m powerful, and I’m beyond the reach of religion. Maybe that makes me a God in my own right." 

"Sure, Boss. If you say so," Sebastian would always reply, thinking back to their Catholic school days and wondering just how he’d ever bought into it all.

_this was how Cyrus got sent to the school_  
 _where they told him he’d never be famous_  
 _and this was why Jeff_  
 _in the letters he’d write to his friend_  
 _helped develop a plan to get even_

Sebastian’s body was littered with pentagrams, all carved there by Jim. The Irishman always found a perverse pleasure watching the blood ooze to the top of Sebastian’s cut skin, a new bloody little marker on him to show the taint and corruption of his soul. Of Jim’s soul.

"You’re running out of space, Boss," he’d say, and Jim would just laugh and laugh.

_when you punish a person for dreaming his dream_  
 _don’t expect him to thank or forgive you_  
 _the best ever death metal band out of Denton_  
 _will in time both outpace and outlive you_

When they’d fuck, Jim would always go past the point of sanity. If Sebastian’s hand was around his throat, he’d lay his own on top and make Sebastian squeeze harder. If he was fucking Sebastian’s face, he’d be relentless and cruel, keeping his cock buried in his Tiger’s throat until the man was gagging and choking. And he’d always have a grin on his face, a dull light to his eyes, and after they’d collapsed on the bed together, sweaty and debauched and covered in cum and blood and tears, he’d bite Sebastian’s earlobe, singing “Hail Satan” over and over.

"You’re fucking crazy, Boss," Sebastian would reply, looking into Jim’s dead eyes and wondering if, just maybe, the Devil had been right there beside him all along.

_Hail Satan_  
 _Hail Satan, tonight_  
 _Hail Satan_  
 _Hail, hail_


	22. Coming Home to You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on a prompt by kratides on Tumblr: Severin goes missing on an overseas job that's only meant to take a couple of weeks. Months later, he finally makes it home, battered and bloody, but alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lyrics from the beginning and end are from the song Sax Rohmer #1 by The Mountain Goats.

_And I am coming home to you_

_With my own blood in my mouth_

You look like you’ve seen a ghost, Bunny. And haven’t you? It’s been five months, give or take a couple weeks. Five goddamn months since I left you for that job. The one you begged me not to take. The one you said you had a bad feeling about. Five months since we’ve seen each other.

And you were right, you know. About the job. It all went to hell in just a few short days, and I spent the better part of my absence—my imprisonment— thinking I was gonna die in that godforsaken country. Thinking that I would never see you again. Never be able to touch you, or hold you, or tell you how you saved me.

That’s right. You saved me. No need to look so shocked, little one, it’s true. Before you, I had nothing, absolutely nothing. Nothing to live for, nothing to keep me rooted or grounded, nothing I gave a shit about. I was just… Floating. Half-conscious and drunk off of hatred. Hatred for my self, for the piss-poor excuse of a world I found myself in, for the ache in my bones that could only be fixed by whiskey I couldn’t afford.

And then I met you. And you, Richard, you were like the light of the sun after years of dark night. You burst into my world and bathed everything in warmth and life. You were so blindingly perfect, it hurt my eyes to look at you, to think about you, to think that I could never be enough for you. Never be the sort of man you deserved.

But you saw something in me that I had thought died long ago. You saw my humanity. You smiled at me and held my hand and took me as I was, broken and partial and weak. You gave me something to fight for, to live for. I learned that I could still love, and love so deeply that it almost frightened me.

You saved me.

Don’t fret now, Bunny. It’s just a few bruises, see? A few cuts, a couple of cracked ribs. I’m only wincing a little. I’ll be ok, I promise. How about we head to the bedroom, yeah? We can patch me up—I know that’ll help put you at ease, my little nurse— and then we can lay in bed. Our bed. Just you and me. And I’ll hold you, and kiss you, and keep on telling you how much I love you till you beg me to shut my mouth.

There’s that smile I adore. You’re so beautiful, Richard. In every way. And I’ll never really leave you, I promise. I’ll always come back.

Always.

_And I am coming home to you_

_If it’s the last thing that I do_


End file.
